


The Vagus | Naruto Fanfiction

by A A R O N (Shizusasori9)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Kirigakure, Konohagakure - Freeform, M/M, Post-Third Shinobi War, Self-Insert, Third Shinobi War, naruto - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 20:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16626245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shizusasori9/pseuds/A%20A%20R%20O%20N
Summary: They had a dream, to fly far away. However, most dreams don't come true.This is a poignant novel of love, duty and sacrifice set amongst the turmoil of two wars across two dimensions.





	The Vagus | Naruto Fanfiction

**_"This book is to be neither an accusation nor a confession. It will try simply to tell of a generation of men who, even though they may have escaped its shells, were destroyed by the war."_ **

\- epiphany, All Quiet on the Western Front.

_A fan fiction, not meant to glorify war, death, or pain, but to bring attention and enthral those who read it. Not to speak about what actually happened, but to adapt two stories, and combine them into our own._

**_'Lest we Forget'_ **

**_..._ **

_"I have not sacrificed anything for my freedom. It was given to me, by those who came before me and sacrificed so much. So now, it is my responsibility to never forget the service and the sacrifices of soldiers, sailors, aircrew and merchant seaman."_

**_..._ **

_ May  _ _all our family, great grandparents, uncles, distant relations who died in the wars, no matter what they were doing, which country, rest in peace._

_ May _ _we remember their sacrifices, because they lost so much...and because they gave everything, we thank them._

_And as we will and shall._

_'_ _ In Remembrance.' _

**_..._**  

_[A Naruto Fanfiction]_  

_Published on the 11th of November, 11:00GMT, 2018, in remembrance of those who died, both in WWI as well as WWII._

_Written by Jo and Aaron._

_Jo writes Isaac._

_Aaron writes Reverie._

© 2018 AARON.JO

*** * * ***

_23:46 GMT. 11th of November, 1941. In the skies, outskirts of Berlin. A lone spitfire flies through the sky._

"...We're going down."

There was a stunned silence, filled only by the sound of the humming engine. It was as if the two fliers couldn't even stand to process it themselves - and everything seemed so quiet, so normal, just like every other good raid they had done.

The sun on the horizon flashed like a nearly extinguished lantern, sending its weak crimson glow to drift among the clouds. The plane gleamed palely in the gathering darkness as it glided through the air, running on empty, and the two men sat cramped in the cockpit, not a word spoken. Their masks filtered their breathing, a steady, yet occasionally sporadic in and out as they tried to process about what the pilot had just said.

"A-Are you sure?" The navigator spoke hesitantly, voice crackling through.

"...I wish I wasn't."

He could see the pilot's eyes through his mask, a sparkling blue.

"We're out of gas. There's no more petrol, and we're..."

"...Over Germany," The navigator said.

The sun had vanished completely - they had blinked, and it suddenly disappeared.

There were no stars in the sky. At least none tonight.

It was just a shaded black, reflecting the pilot's masked face back at him. He knew there were lights below, lights of German cities that they were meant to be bombing, that were filled with soldiers that would soon be capturing them, or worse, execute and torture them, but as always, he couldn't stand to look down.

He looked up, and let his navigator do the looking for him.

"... I'm sorry, Rev."

"No no no," Rev said urgently, shifting a little to put a hand on his pilot's shoulder. "It's not your fault. We'll get through this-"

"No!" The pilot snapped, and there was a thud as a gloved hand hit the metal. "It's my fucking fault. I-I should have said something, Rev, the mechanics couldn't be bothered to do a proper check on our petrol tank, I should've told them to-!"

"Isaac! Please, calm down!"

"How can I be calm, Reverie? We're falling, we're falling down-!"

"No, we're gliding. Relax. Isaac, we're going down but it's slow, we'll figure something out."

"Isn't that even worse? What can we do, Rev?" Isaac's breaths came quick and fast, wracking his lungs and scratching his throat. "I can't jump, I can't, I just can't, you can't make me use the parachute! I-I don't want us to die, I don't want us to fall, I don't want you to, I  _failed_  you-"

"Isaac...Isaac! Look at me!" A hand was gripped tight around his leather padded shoulders, one over the boy's masked cheek, forcing the pilot to take his eyes off of the petrol meter. Eyes could be seen through the windows in the masks, watery blue meeting an earthy green.

"... Isaac."

"...Rev."

"Breathe, Isaac."

The spitfire glided through the sky, engine sputtering to a monotonous sound, then quiet. There was no doubt that the plane would bypass Germany. The spitfire; famous for its combination of speed, manoeuvrability and firepower is considered as a formidable killing machine against the Germans, yet now...its broken. Utterly  _broken_. Succumbing to its imperfections. Dim crimson lights on the dashboard flashed signifying the impending doom, and there was a shudder as Isaac leaned forward, head bowed down, and started shedding silent tears.

The altitude had gone down, and the mask came off, revealing a head of messy white blonde hair, a sharp pink nose and watery blue eyes that were wet with tears, with long, pale eyelashes that were clumped together.

Rev gave up as well, exhausted, his own mask fell at his feet. Dirty blonde hair fell over his tired green eyes, that always seemed to vary in colour every time you looked at him. His eyebrows were creased together as he bit his lip, trying to think... Just trying to think.

They were both enlisted underage.

For the adventure?

For the friendship?

For the money?

For the respect?

For the death, the horror, the hopelessness and fear of it all?

"I'm sorry. I-I failed. Rev... I'm scared. I don't want to be here, I want to be home, I want to stay in the sky, I don't want to go down... I don't want to fail you, I never wanted to fail you but I've... I'm scared, Rev."

They were only eighteen, both enlisted at sixteen.

Isaac had a little sister at home, Megan, a mother who he had left without warning. His father had died when he was three, and Isaac liked to think himself as the man of the house when he was small.

The war was hyped up, the soldiers heroes, and Isaac wanted to join the heroes. So he lied about his age, the result?

Enlistment.

Isaac was an agile flier. The Spitfire was small and light, just like him, and it soared like the seagulls he had seen at Cromer beach when he was young - the voices, wanderers, the free.

Whenever he flew, Rev couldn't help but compare his eyes to the sky, and it was as if he didn't even know there was the earth beneath him.

Above the clouds, above all of his problems, he'd just see the sky. He was a laugher, the jokester, a maker of hilarious pranks and the one who always managed to make people chuckle. The youngster that the older pilots looked to when they were in need of some cheer, some hope, with his navigator always standing next to him, standing guard, making sure he didn't do things that were too stupid and laughing when Isaac did something that was so hilariously dumb that he couldn't help it.

He had Rev to guide him. His navigator, the one who always showed him the way, where to press that button, where to go up and where to go down. Even on the ground, without Rev, Isaac's sense of direction was so terrible he'd probably get lost in an air hanger.

Reverie had lived in Edinburgh, from a poor family, yet despite the destitution he was quite tall for his age. He was a kid who did newspaper runs each day, or some may call him, the 'paper boy.' Quiet, rational, and what seemed like colour-changing eyes that showed his thoughts more than most. The war brought soldiers, brought money - and that was what his family needed. What he needed.

How the sergeants completely overlooked the fact that they were underage displays a clear understanding that this war needs  _more_. There was not enough soldiers, not enough sacrifices in order for an end. Both didn't know that. At least, now they do.

Rev was always in the back seat, looking forwards, towards his pilot. The one who flew, who did what he told him to no matter what, the pilot who ironically had vertigo, that he simply let his navigator do the looking, the leading like a blind man and his guide dog, a relationship built on trust.

The radio crackled, but it was almost as if that Isaac was deaf to it until he said what it was they needed to do. Then Isaac would laugh, say something with that odd backstreet London accent, and then do exactly what Rev told him.

If Rev told him to go diving headfirst to the ground, then you could bet that Isaac would do it blindfolded.

Because the two had utter trust in each other, that they would not let the other die, they would not let the other down.

They had a dream together. A big one. Maybe it seemed preposterous, too much leaning on the visionary side. Something the society does not want. Two young men with big dreams, in their Spitfire that they had claimed for their own.

But here they were.

A declining Spitfire, two boys of only eighteen, one sobbing with his hands still hopelessly on the controls, and the other holding on to his friend's shoulders, head resting against the pilot's seat while keeping up the facade that he was fine, that his pilot was the only one who was crying.

"...I'm scared," Isaac whispered, voice small and delicate, like a glass vase that was about to shatter any moment. He looked small, hopeless, curled up in the seat, Rev's hands on his shoulders. He felt  _small_ , he felt  _hopeless_.

"..."

The navigator couldn't say they were going to be fine. That would be a lie, though a kind one.

"Isaac."

"...Yeah?"

A silence as Rev thought about what to say. It  _was_ all hopeless, already. They were going down, none of them wanted to die. Two young men, a small pilot and his tall navigator, both powerless against the pull of fate, a stupid mistake that could've easily been avoided.

Two young men.

Two dreamers.

Two of many who had already fallen.

Rev's lips parted, chapped and dry, and the words came out in a decision.

"...Tell me- Tell me about the northern lights again."

'One last time' remained unspoken, but it hung in the air, though the pair tried to ignore it.

"... There are lights." Isaac said, like he had many times before. "In the sky, that we learnt about in school. That come in... blue, purple, and greens, the cool colours that calm you down, all the beautiful colours that I think that I can sometimes see in your eyes, even though you insist it's just green. And one day... In... In..."

He gave a light chuckle, but Isaac's light voice broke slightly. More tears fell, white hair over his eyes and cheeks shining in the dark like a sad beacon.

"...I-In the future, we'll... see it. We'll fly there, with you guiding me and me flying this plane, this... very plane."

"Ahh...Named?"

"... the Aurora Vagus. Remember? I told you it was stupid to combine Greek and Latin, but... I think it's fine now. It's a good name. And we'll fly, through the lights. The... beautiful lights. Away from all this war. Death. Bombs and Germans. Just... you and me, and the Aurora V. In the future, when this bloody war is over."

As Isaac spoke to his navigator, their plane, the Aurora V, a standard issue spitfire, went down, engine finally gone.

Down.

Down.

Down, until they hit the ground.

*** * * ***

**Anyway, what do you guys think about this chapter? Your comments, feedback, suggestions and of course if you have any constructive criticism, all are welcome. We would be very grateful to listen^^**

**_Aaron & Jo out._ **

**_R &C._ **


End file.
